Searching for Hope

Heads up—vulnerability warning!

Because I’m saying it...

I’ve lived as a British immigrant in America since February 2002.

For sixteen years, my (now) ex-husband said I was too sensitive.

Seven years since our divorce, I’m beginning to wonder if he was right.

Because I see how this political climate is hurting people.

Because fear and sadness never seem to leave.

Because I’ve never felt so isolated, so very alone.

Because I hate that I feel this way.

My ex-husband’s family are staunch Republicans, fully invested in the current administration’s plans. There are times when I can step into their shoes, see through their lens. And for a moment, I almost understand. But stepping back out leaves me with an emotional hangover.

Why? Because while I’m in those shoes, I feel the pull of a different perspective. I see people losing their jobs, but I don’t seem to care. I see military veterans losing essential support, but it doesn’t break my heart. I watch systems unravel and think, maybe this is necessary. And that’s where the conflict arises.

Because, yes, there’s an appeal to tearing down broken systems to rebuild them stronger—like kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold. But what happens when the ones doing the breaking aren’t interested in rebuilding? What happens when figures like Donald Trump and Elon Musk rip things apart with no care for what’s left behind—national parks, institutions, lives?

Growing up in Britain, I had an idealistic view of America—a land where everyone was equal, where opportunity was available to all. But after living here, I see the cracks. The issue of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) is complex. There are always two sides to every argument. Maybe DEI meant some people missed out on opportunities they might have had. But eliminating DEI ensures that others—people with disabilities, military veterans, marginalized groups—continue to be overlooked. What’s fair? What’s right? I don’t have clear answers.

As a writer, I absorb perspectives beyond my own. I feel emotions that aren’t always mine to carry. It’s a gift, but also a burden, making me vulnerable to the weight of the world.

Recently, I listened to an evangelical sermon that wove right-wing politics with Bible verses. It was terrifying to witness how seamlessly faith and ideology intertwined, how easily people were drawn in. I don’t believe everyone who follows that path is cruel or hateful. I believe good people have been swept up in something bigger than themselves. But it’s manipulative, it’s frightening, and it’s working.

So, to my ex-husband and father of our sons—my sensitivity is both a curse and a gift. But I have to use it. To bring awareness. To tell stories. To connect.

I’m searching for hope in a world that feels dark. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find it.

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to scroll down and add a comment.

What to read more?

SATIRE? Read something satirical about wet fingers and weather vanes.

SEEKING? Read about what's happening in evangelical churches? Start here.